When In New York
by APoisonTree
Summary: Remember your boss can't get you out of this one.  Contains If-you-turn-your-head Russamerica.


**Um, I'd just like to say that when **(This) **occurs, it means the character is speaking softly. It was in a small font in Word, but what can you do.**

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><p>A blonde man in a trench coat walked along East 63d street, approaching a bus stop only a block away from Central Park. A glass-wearing teenager asked "Mister, why are you wearing a trench coat? It's spring already."<p>

"Is that so, mon cher_,_ because I find it quite breezy." The dirty-blonde looked about to reply when a brunette, her friend pulled her away.

"Why did you do that Maggie?" asked another girl, with strait black hair and Asian features.

"Because, my naïve friends, French people are perverts. You two should know that with all your hetalia-obsessing."

The bus pulled up just then, and the driver yelled "All passengers heading to Times Square get in!" The three girls continued on with their previous conversation (I can't believe our parents let us come here!) and the man seated himself in the back of the bus, insisting on a spot next to a window.

"It's 6 o'clock! I can't believe that wino is skipping _this_ meeting. Nooo, he couldn't have skipped the ones where we talk about pasta and cars, but he just _has_ to miss the one where we actually make decisions, and we can't bloody well do it without him." England paced the front of the room, caterpil- erm, eyebrows furrowed.

"Lovino, where's big-brother France? Shouldn't he be here? Vee~"

"I told you not to talk about, or to the wine-bastard after the "Intercourse Incident"! Idiota!"

And from another part of the room, "See, Russia, I _am_ capable of not being the last one here! You lose!"

"Amerika, you arrived 75 minutes late after stopping at every fast food restaurant in 10 blocks. You have nothing to brag about."

"You still have to eat my socks. And I only went to Dunkin' Donuts, McDonalds, Burger Ki-" America's rant was cut short by the shrill ringing of the superpower's cell, much to the relief of Russia, who was wondering if Alfred was really _that _stupid, and how in the world he was going to work with the sunny blond. Stupid Boss.

The cell, on speakerphone, blared the voice from the other end. "Mr. Jones?"

"Yup, Hero speaking."

"Um, this is police officer James Ruby, there's a guy called Francis Bonnefoy who says he knows you."

France glanced at the watch on his wrist- only the latest and greatest in fashion- as he walked towards the very center of Times Square. It was 5:30 pm, right on schedule. He attracted only minimal attention as he made his way to his goal.

The European nation was in the right spot, at the right time-rush hour. The optimum time to educate as many Americans as possible about true art. He took a moment to mourn the fact that he didn't bring a rose. The lovely flowers he brought from the Botanical Gardens had wilted, and it just wouldn't do to bring anything subpar on _this_ of all ventures.

Moment of mourning over, he untied the knot of the safari coat fresh from the runways of Paris, and pulled back the brown fabric.

The reaction was instantaneous.

"Mommy, what's that man doing?"

"Look away, Timmy!"

From across the square, a young woman yelled "My virgin eyes!"

Francis smiled. He was oh-so-proud to 'educate these culture-less Americans', his term for rape of the eyes. 'And who better to teach these people about art than him?' he thought. 'With his spun-gold hair, manly stubble, natural poise grace, and of course, his beautifully maintained body he deserved to be in the Louvre. None could see any evidence of his 1500+ years. He'd certainly aged like a bottle of fine wine. Unlike _Angleterre_. But, to be fair, the bushy-browed island nation wasn't even wine material to start, more like…ale. Very poor ale. '

He was shaken out of his reverie by pair police officers, but he could see there were more in the immediate area. The taller of the two said somewhat shakily "Sir, we have to detain you. You're under arrest for disturbing the peace." Which, of course, Francis had. Only 40 feet- or 13 1/3 meters for about 98.5 % of the world- was an accident.

The other officer, who by that point was a lovely shade of I'm-going-to-puke green stuttered "Th-that's right. Um, please tie up your coat and get in the car. (Please don't let his naked get on the seats. I just cleaned those)."

"Very well" said Francis "I will get my phone call though, _oui_?"

"So, what you're saying is that you scarred hundreds of people for life and caused thousands of dollars in property damage?" said an indignant America. And the blond had a good reason to be mad; those were _his_ citizens after all.

"I prefer to call it 'the education of barbarians,' _Amerique"_

England injected himself into the conversation with a (manly!) shriek. "You exposed nuns, children, and nations to you, frog! Belarus would have killed you for 'scarring' her brother (if that's even possible) if she wasn't restrained and North Korea is threatening to bomb you! If the police hadn't detained you I would have dealt with you the pirate way; there isn't a punishment I can think of bad enough for you! I'm have-"

A horrifying light came into the short man's eyes and France found he was even more scared than he'd been when Napoleon tried to invade Russia.

"Now that I think of it frog, I _do _believe I've thought of suitable punishment for you." England said, smiling sadistically. "Russia, America, you said your bosses wanted you to work together, correct?"

Both of them replied at the same time

"Yes, Angliya."

"Yeah, Iggy"

"Well, then I think I have a solution to all of our problems. You understand, of course?"

A spark of realization dawned in two sets of eyes, one blue as the heavens above; the other gleaming like amethysts from deep underground. America answered for both himself and Russia "Yeah, Iggs, we do" He then turned around to face his flaxen haired counterpart and quipped "Well ya ruskie, looks like we have something we'll be able to work on together after all".

"Da comrade, we do." said Russia, with a smile. 'Perhaps the fool was not as unintelligent as he feared…And he would find a friend who'd hide him from Belarus!' That last thought got him thinking, 'What if?...'

Russia trailed off, and the two Anglophones looked at France, Britain smug and Alfred looking, well, revenge-y was the only way that could describe it. France gulped. He was in for it now.

After what seemed hours, but in reality only minutes – agonizing, agonizing minutes – the door opened. America was first to speak, as per usual. "Well, frenchie, you know about the 2012 International Wine Challenge, right?"

"Y-yes" replied France. 'Mon dieu, he's going to ban me from entering! The world will be deprived of my fine wine! P-perhaps I'll be able to get Italy to smuggle in a couple bottles for me-'

"Relax, Sex-Offender, you can go…In fact, you _have _to go. Y'know why that is, my friend?"

"B-because you are kind and merciful?" even the stubble on France's chin looked pleading.

"Nope! It's cuz you're gonna go on stage. Say my wine's the best. While wearing an American flag suit. And eating a cheeseburger. With each sentence France's eyes grew larger with terror.

"I won't do this!"

"But you will, and you should. Do you know why, frog?" said Britain, eyes conveying that he'd waited years for this. "Because if you don't carry out America's choice of punishment first, then you'll be doing **Russia's**"

"R-russia?"

"Yes, Russia." England's Cheshire-Cat smile somehow widened as he continued, "Russia, would you be a dear and tell out _friend _here what you'll be needing him for?"

"Well, you see, I do love my sister Belarus. She's loyal, and pretty, and-and-and" the tank of a man stuttered, his eyes beginning to water at the memories of so many horrifying, horrifying nights (BROTHER, Let's get married married married…) "SCAAARY!"

"Um, there-there big guy, your stalk-sister, yeah sister, ain't here." America said awkwardly, while patting the larger nation's back. "Um, what the abdominal snowman here means is that you're his meat-shield from Belarus for three months" America switched his focus from France back to Russia "Um, if it makes you feel better we come to my house to play videogames and shit"

"D-da. Amerika will hide me from Belarus?" Russia's accent grew thicker as he tried to suppress his tears of terror.

"Yeah, sure rusk-" Once again, the blond was interrupted, but be something far more dangerous than a cell phone.

"BROTHER!" shrieked Belarus. She would have met her target if Russia hadn't decided that France needed to be punished _now,_ throwing the pervert in front of him at the last second.

"St-stay back, Belarus, I'm warning you!" said a panicking Russia.

"Why, big brother, WHY?" came the reply.

"Um- because France might corrupt you, you must now purify yourself." And, more to himself, "Da, that is it."

At that, Belarus beamed and gloated "See, big brother _does _care." To her elder sibling, "I will now purify myself for our wedding, brother. I love you."

"D-Da, and I as well, sister. Just not that way."

After Belarus left, all sunshine and flowers France dragged his battered and bloodied body off the floor and begged "Fine, fine I will be a cultureless barbarian, just don't make me be near that she-demon!"

"Oh, I don't think so. After all, why" here England gestured at the happily chatting America and Russia "would you want stop what will be such a _beautiful _friendship….One dedicated to making your life miserable." England cackled and walked away.

France looked glumly at Russia and America, whose friendship had been formed out of a desire to beat the stuffing out of him. And the now laughing pair weren't likely to split now. France cast his eyes to the heavens and groaned. "Why me?"

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><p><strong>Yes, I am aware that I included a bit of Russiamerica. I can't help it. If it makes you feel better, it can be interpreted as Alfred's hero complex at work. This is my first (completely) non-ridiculous fic, so please be gentle with reviews, help me improve, and wish me well in future crack-writing ventures! (sorry for any errors, gramatical, spelling, OOC or otherwise.)<strong>


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